Forbidden
by goldenstringoffate
Summary: Zuko and Katara face the grim reality of their relationship and try to cope. Zutara Month 2017 Day 7


Forbidden

Though a great distance lies between them with many people meandering in and out of their line of sight, the Fire Nation prince and the Southern Water Tribe princess instantly lock eyes when he enters. She quickly sips her drink and returns to the conversation around her, never skipping a beat. He begins running through the mundane greetings of this dignitary and that noble, all the while strategically making his way toward his destination. She is his island and he will swim through this ocean of insignificant faces to reach her.

She watches his journey with a sharp, careful eye, until he stands in front of her, posture statuesque and imposing. All conversation ceases as she and her companions acknowledge his presence. However, his eyes are focused only on her, the way her head dips after she shines the slightest hint of a tantalizing smirk. He bows at the waist, seizing her hand and placing a lingering kiss on her knuckles. He gazes up at her during the kiss and the charge threatens to melt the entire ice palace. "I hope your voyage was smooth, Prince Zuko."

"It was for the most part, but I have no fear of rough waters, Princess Katara." She nods at his keen choice of words and sips her drink. By now, they are experts at this dangerous game. He doesn't stay too long after the routine small talk and disappears into the crowd again. She does the same. However, their eyes never fail to find each other every now and then. Everyone else is background noise.

They even hold back when the dancing begins, agreeing silently to avoid being each other's first and second partners. And when the third song rolls around, they hesitate, hyperaware of the watchful eyes of their families. The prince and princess wouldn't be so cautious if they were only hiding the sprouts of developing feelings, no, they were far past that. Far past blind, prejudicial misunderstandings. Far past clumsy greetings and graceless interactions. Far past stumbling words and fleeting glances. They both know the intense, enduring certainty of what they have is far more noticeable than childish crushes.

Zuko likes to test this whenever he can during their dance. He has become an expert at timing his provocative reveries just right, whispering during a spin or lift or change in position. Katara has become an expert at molding her face into a mask of icy disinterest. But she knows that he fully intends to prove his words, as he's done at every nation dinner before. She can control her face, but he always pushes her ability to control her body. It is not so easily yielding to the master of reason. It is a game he likes to play that she isn't particularly fond of.

As the music builds to a thundering climax, he pulls her close as the steps dictate and takes advantage of the position. "My room." She groans visibly, and it is the one time her public actions match her private feelings. He knows how difficult it is for her to sneak to his quarters as opposed to the other way around. Because of her gender and protective father and brother, she has become extremely creative over the past few years, though it may be a little easier this time since she's on her home turf. He must know this. They separate and bow to signal the end of the dance. She bites her bottom lip, mind already working to conjure a plan for her midnight escape. He fades into the crowd without another word. And they remain separate for the remainder of the evening.

Katara rests near the door of her room, toying with the sash of her sapphire silk robe. She waves her hand to strike a crack in a pillar further down the hall, causing a sharp noise in the otherwise quiet night. Once she hears the two sets of footsteps fade with distance, she slinks out of her room and right around the corner. The ice floors make it easy to conceal the noise of her footsteps with her bending.

Instead of knocking, she simply opens the unlocked door. She surveys the dark room, seeing no sign of the prince. She instantly panics, wondering if she is in the right room. A quiet snicker alerts her to another presence. There he is, sitting on the desk, shrouded in the shadows. His sharp eyes are a glowing amber in the inky night. "Not funny." He hops down from the desk and moves toward her. She leans against the wall, making him come all the way to her.

Once he's in front of her, he drags the back of his hand across her cheek. Her eyes flutter shut in familiar response. Their lips meet for the first time in three months, pouring three months of distance, three months of pretending, three months of longing into every motion. Although they are in her home right now, she knows that home is more the who than the where. It's not long before their tongues are in the mix, tasting every word, every thought, every desire. In the brief shift from her lips to her neck, he breathes a quick "I missed you." A shaky moan is the only response she can manage.

Between his lips sucking on the tender skin of her shoulder and his teeth raking down her throat, he manages to undo her belt. The robe slips from her shoulders into a silk puddle on the floor. "Someone is in a hurry," he murmurs as his eyes roam over her naked body, taking inventory of every curve, birthmark, and stretchmark. She usually has her wraps beneath her robe but tonight is different. One look into her eyes and he knows it is different. "What is it?" he asks. "I want you." Her half-lidded eyes and swollen lips attest to her statement. He wastes no more of their already limited time together.

He picks her up and she drapes her arms over his shoulders. They glide to the bed and fall onto the thick, warm furs. A quick kiss to her lips and he begins trailing kisses down to her center. He fiercely needs her to know how much he misses and loves her. She is lost in her wanton desire, squirming under his heated hands and hotter kisses. Months of experience make her body his favorite song. He knows the chords, harmonies, melodies, and rhythms by heart. He can bring her to crescendo at his behest.

Words diminish in power over time. Words can be sent in a letter by hawk no matter the distance or danger. This. This is a rare treasure, an anticipated occasion, a secret pleasure enjoyed every so often. Every encounter is fresh and exhilarating. To speak loving words could never compare to making love to the queen of his heart, mind, and body. Her pulsing core brings her to the peak of her lust and she descends in flighty bliss. She sighs in contentment and the love in her eyes is overwhelming as she runs her fingers through his raven hair. "I've missed you too."

She pushes him on his back, shifting to straddle his waist. She slowly sinks onto him, savoring every second. The pleasure and pain are agonizing, but he knows that she won't waste the teasing. Every movement is measured tonight. Every moment is fully immersive. They have created their own little universe, far from the ancient prejudices and judgmental gazes of their families, where nothing else matters but them. It doesn't matter whether they were in her bed or his or surrounded by the emeralds and beiges of the earth kingdom. Their connection weathers the storm. The doubts are certainly there, but they were always drowned out by their collective moans.

Not tonight. Katara tries to lose herself in the feeling of him, in his steady thrusts, in her growing climax, but when it hits, and he is looking into her eyes with that painful honesty and vulnerability, she wants to cry. She dismounts and wraps her arms around his middle, hiding her face against his chest under her wild waves of chestnut hair. The tears have thankfully retreated but the dull ache is still there. His large hand pets her head, smoothing her hair. "Katara," he prompts. She lifts her head and rests her chin on his chest. She examines every part of his face: the slight tilt of his mouth, the flush of his cheeks, the flickering of his amber eyes, the twisted scarlet flesh on the left side of his face. She examines the way his thick hair falls into his eyes and brushes his broad shoulders. She is likely the only person who has seen him like this, so relaxed and open.

"I love you."

He blinks. His tongue doubles in size and becomes unruly and disobedient, unable to form any sort of sentence nor basic sound. Her words land in the middle of his chest between his lungs and burst instantaneously into a wild spray of flowers that wrap and tangle around his ribs. The petals tickle his throat. The leaves brush his heart. In that moment, he believes that if he opens his mouth the flowers will spring forth and entangle Katara in their unyielding vines, never letting her go.

Her lightning blue eyes grow glassy in the black of night. "Spirits, say _something_. If I'm just some forbidden fruit for you then just say it." She is trying to come off as if it wouldn't matter to her one way or the other. She is fighting hard to hold the tears back, but the beginning of a sob breaks her voice. He tried hard to keep his feelings out of this, for her sake. He would tell her in his touch but never with his words. But now the words were out in the air and they disappear before either of them has the chance to bury them in the ground. Blaming this consuming need for her on the longing of the flesh made it easier to leave. It made it easier to control himself. And when the feelings bloomed, he would cut off the buds and rip out the roots. Every. Single. Time.

She makes a move to lift herself off him, but as soon as he feels the chilling ghost of her body heat, he snaps into action. He locks her wrists in his grasp and traps her body beneath his on the bed. His gaze bores into her with acute potency. She doesn't struggle but her breathing is heavy, nervous. Her head turns to the side, avoiding his stare. "Katara, look at me." She hesitates, then turns her eyes toward him again, gaze guarded by anger with hurt lurking close behind. "You are not and have never been just some forbidden fruit. You're the whole damn tree."

Her mind, body, and spirit drink up every word wanting to alleviate the drought within her. His statement is in no way empty, so why does it still hurt? He continues. "You are the one good thing in my life." She scoffs but his expression reveals no hidden joke. "I am not in a hurry to lose you. You know my family."

"And you know mine."

"It's not the same."

"Is it not?" He groans and releases her hands, sitting up against the headboard. She sits up as well, trying to catch his eyes again but he is staring at the furs and alternating between scratching the back of his head and dragging his hand down his face. "Then what, Zuko? Too afraid to wed the water tribe whore who's only after your money, who's only out to sabotage your kingdom?"

"Stop it! You know I don't think that."

"I know, but your people will surely think that and say it and you can't handle the shame that will follow you the rest of your life."

"Can _you_? Because what _I_ can't handle is the certainty that your name will be dragged through the mud, your reputation destroyed, because of something we both want but only you will get blamed for. Spirits, Katara, I want you so much it hurts; but I am not willing to subject you to the utter _hell_ of my sister and father, so I can get what I want. I love you too much."

She is silent. Conviction bleeds from his strained whispers. The tears finally fall, slowly, quietly. She pulls her knees to her chest, feeling helpless and hopeless. Under the gentle coaxing of his arm around her shoulder, she collapses against him, sobs shaking her entire frame. Steady, stinging streams flow down his face as well. He wants to give and be everything she wants. He curses the situation, the world, his father, and his sister, but mostly his father. His sister is as much a victim as he is, no matter how much she thinks she's in control. Control is an illusion anyway. If it wasn't, he would seize control of the throne, take Katara as his wife and lady, and dare any opposition to step forward, but that is not the world they live in. He knows this and as he squeezes her tight, trying to shield her from their sad reality, he knows she knows this too.


End file.
